


The Quiet

by lunamoonx



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Childhood Trauma, Daddy Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Hate Sex, Hurt, Jealousy, Levi is In Denial (Shingeki no Kyojin), Mommy Issues, Murder-Suicide, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Only Kinda Tho, Pain, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, SO SAD, Sad with a Happy Ending, Smut, So is reader, Trauma, again only kinda, its fine, levi does not have a daddy kink, not rlly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29706042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunamoonx/pseuds/lunamoonx
Summary: (updates every Thursday!)Just tell meSay anythingAnything hurts less than the quiet.
Relationships: Levi Ackerman & Reader, Levi Ackerman/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi i get bored and write sometimes  
> i took inspo from troye sivans song "The Quiet" plz its so good  
> has almost no relation to the story besides a few correlations here and there  
> this story will be updated every Thursday and hopefully i continue it through to the end

Wind swept across the grassland. It sent a shimmering array of bloomed dandelions towards the east, following the wind’s cool breeze. A single dandelion dropped gently, unto the half dried blood on the dirt. 

Shaky breathes along with trembling hands held onto the sharp silver knife that was just before laying carelessly on the ground next to her unmoving body. Her. A mother. To a girl, only 5. Stab wounds painted her neck. If anyone were to see the scene in front of them they wouldn’t hesitate to think it was murder. Her daughter let the knife fall as her trembling hands went numb. Her breath hitched. She stood still. She didn’t notice, but the wind died down and the dandelion dried into the blood. Everything was quiet. Then she screamed, a dying animal, an enraged soul, a horrific piercing scream. And just like that, It was never quiet again.


	2. #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She thought she was past this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay had fun writing the first official chapter!! also im not going w canon stuff obviously it will follow the story line but a few things will be au!

The dark shadow permanently casted over the crumbling building didn’t help ease her worries. “Damnit,” She tapped her leg furiously and paced around the hidden alleyway, every so often peaking over where people walked to see if a familiar figure would start walking down the small path and towards her. She turned away disappointed and faced the wall. In frustration letting her thoughts tumble out her mouth. “Where the hell could he be? I mean, seriously what the hell could he have to do that’s more important-” Nervous rambling cut short as a voice interrupted. “Anxious?” Smug and arrogant, as he stood with a bag in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. This didn’t go unnoticed by the tense girl that held a blade to his neck. 

“Just me.” He spoke again only this time, she wasn’t wary. She took the blade back away from his jugular and back into the strap that held it in place along her wrist. “Jesus fucking christ Harry.” She stepped back and breathed out. “Next time I’ll kill you and I won’t be sorry.” Harry chuckled, his brown, almost black, curly hair bounced slightly. “Try me.” “ Nah, you’ll die before I can kill you if you keep smoking those poison sticks.” Harry laughed this time. She gave him a “tsk” and shook her head. He motioned for her to follow him back into the streets. She quietly followed, her footsteps no louder than her breathing. 

Harry knew the Underground better than her, case of why she always let him guide. Not saying she didn’t know her way around, she knew well enough. But Harry, Harry knew it all, and well enough would get you dead if you were to wander the streets. Harry, unlike her, was born in the Underground. He was taller than most. Maybe 5’8 or 5’9. It made him stick out for sure, nothing like his eyes though. Green as emeralds shining, green like money, green as green could get. 

She, who only got there 12 years ago, stood taller than when she first arrived but still small. Mostly due to malnutrition which stunted her growth significantly. Her hair darker and shorter (she didn’t like enemies being able to grab at it) yet still held on to its original color. Most notably changed, her features matured and she looked like a woman. The little girl who was tossed aside down into the pit no longer shook in fear of anything. She wasn’t that little girl anymore. 

After walking for a bit, Harry slowed down and turned into a similar alleyway like the one they just came from. Only this alleyway held a ladder ascending up a large building encasing against a smaller one in comparison. They both climbed silently, and as she saw Harry’s feet disappear over the top she let herself bask in excitement. She sped up climbing and soon enough, popped her head over the edge. 

The view looked over the trapped city. Lights glittering and steam arose, making the buildings look less ugly and more intriguing. It never failed to hitch her breath slightly. It was almost enough to make the past not so close. Only almost. “Well,” Harry finally spoke, grabbing her attention away from the scenery and placing it onto the bag that fell from his hand onto the ground with a clunk. She, so caught up in her mind, forgot why they were there. 

A blast of nerves shot in her veins and sparked her. “Fuck. Did you actually get them?” She asked, almost squealing as he nodded in confirmation. “Take a look.” The bag was ransacked almost immediately by the girl’s gleeful hands, and what she found once the zipper was split open did not disappoint. Proudly laid were two 3DMG mechanisms along with two long blades in each of the holding compartments the gear supplied. She smiled and took one out to examine.

Harry watched in admiration at the look on her face. She didn’t notice, she couldn’t, not when the most wanted object in the Underground lay in her hands. She finally stood back up and muttered curses under her breath. “Hey woah woah,” Harry went towards her when he noticed she was trying to put it on, and laid his hands atop hers. “You don’t even know how to use it, dumbass.” She shrugged him off, “Fuck you.” A sloppy attempt to prove he was wrong was all it took for her to come to reality and slowly take the gear off. 

They both stood silently, until she looked at Harry. Fucking prick. “You’re going to make me say it?” Harry smirked and shrugged. Of course he was going to make her say it, that egotistical bastard. She knew him well, and he her. She would usually humor him a bit longer, playing his little game, but tonight she was more than willing to let her ego fall to learn the 3D gear. “How do you work it?” She spit out bored and impatiently. Harry’s eyes gleamed, even in the dark still viper green, and his brows furrowed. “Really? That easy?” She glared and he quickly swiped the table clean of that conversation. 

Harry showed her everything he could about the gear that day. She listened attentively to every word he said. Even the trip back to Harry’s house was full of her asking questions curiously. The time came when they reached home, and snuck quietly through the door so as not to let Harry’s mother, Wendy, hear. She went in first, as always, and signaled for him to come in as well once the coast was clear. 

Wendy worked a hard day shift at the local pub. She always came home tired and worn out, through the years it became harder and harder for Wendy as crime escalated and money wore thin. But even those circumstances didn’t stop her kind heart from taking in Y/N and raising her as her own. Harry and Y/N were inseparable since. 

She and Harry tiptoed along the house making their way to their bedroom. Once inside, Harry giggled and Y/N fell unto her bed. She let herself think for a moment, but soon sleep overcame her body and her mind followed soon after. While Y/N wasn’t a forgetful person, she wasn’t prone to things slipping her mind. If she was, she would have noticed the knocked over glass on the table, the scuff marks on the floor, and most importantly, the blood that smeared the door handle to Wendy’s room. She would’ve noticed and could’ve stopped everything that happened. 

The room was darkly shadowed and stuffy. Y/N, still drunk on sleep, took a minute to come to her senses. A smushing sound along with some whimpers softly, almost silently, flowed throughout the room. Her eyes cracked open slightly, then widened completely. 

Harry, wide eyed and staring directly at her, laid helplessly as a hellish figure repeatedly took the large butcher's knife to his neck. A tear shimmered across his pale cheek in the scarce light coming from the almost burnt out lantern. She didn’t have time to see the green glow fade from his eyes or the cloudy tear fall off his face, she didn’t make time. 

Time was out, and she acted fast. Her blade, which earlier was used defensively, now acted with intent to harm. Like a fox hunting down their prey, her victim didn’t hear her coming. She stabbed at the hunched figure as he fell utop Harry’s lifeless body. She saw red, felt red, painted red. She didn’t stop, she couldn’t feel, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t hear. It was quiet for the first time, in a long time. 

Reality came in hard, fast, and unforgiving. Almost frozen, almost, beside her moving chest, she called to Wendy. “Wendy..” Quietly almost like a whisper. Y/n knew. Wendy was just like Harry. They were both silent. She lost everything to the quiet now. 

Grabbing the bag of 3DM gear over her shoulder with her bloodied hands and stuffed her ruby knife back in her wrist strap, she was off. The only trace of her would be the two pairs of clothes she left in the nightstand, and the smell of vanilla from her shampoo on her pillow. The loud didn’t seem so bad anymore to her. Loud was good, loud was safe. Quiet was intimate, intimacy only brought fear and pain.


	3. #3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The noise was deafening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good god ughhh idk how some writers get like 5k works in one chapter im struggling with just 1k anyway im so sorry if there's any typos or misspelled words i was so exited to get this out asap :) im trying my best to make this story long but also entertaining ahaha

They had me surrounded. Two on the left, two on the right, one in the middle. The middle man with a timber voice yelled at me to show myself. Familiarity jilted my movements. “Come on kitten, come play with us!” The run down and, thank god, abandoned bar they cornered me in gave me little to no access without hurting anyone. I took out a blade seated in one of the holders on either side of my legs and used it as a mirror, seeing that they were slowly closing in. I replied cooly, “I’m not hiding. I’m giving you a chance. A chance to run” He laughed, ugly and loud, but he held his hand out to his men to stop moving. “Oh sweetheart, you think you can do anything? You’re cute.” His laughing died down and I took my move. 

Grappling my hooks into the ceiling, first the two on the left. They shot at me and one, very closely, grazed my arm. No, no time to feel that pain. I was trying to go easy, I gave them a chance. I flew down and slit his throat clean, his partner, now enraged, discarded the gun and came at me with a blade, clearly blinded by anger. I felt sorry for him. I stabbed him, center chest, and he gurgled a dying breath on my neck. 

Next, the two on the right. They had not been easy on me while I slaughtered their friends. Never stopped shooting at me and continuing to do so as I made my way towards them. They were smarter, but their aim was shaky. They were nervous. A part of me swelled at that, the way I could make them nervous without so much as touching a hair on their head. Another part of me felt sick. To them, I was a monster. Cold blooded killer. A nightmare. I’m sure they’re not far off. 

Four dead. I looked impassively to the middle man, the boss I presume. He looked… disappointed as he took in the site of his men laying dead. I took this moment to bend down and quickly stash one of the guns his men dropped into my belt. I slung away my blades back in their designated area, my eyes never leaving his stumpy body. “I told you, I gave you a chance.” It was the truth, I can lie to myself but not others. He disregarded any common sense and offered me a weightless promise. “Work for me. I can pay you handsomely! You’ll always have a full belly and a place to sleep!” His words were rushed and nervous, his eyes darted to me with plead and worry. I suddenly saw who this was. Guilt pooled like rocks in my stomach. Daniel Crezar. 

I looked away and sighed, sliding into one of the booths at the bar that wasn’t rotting in shambles. I didn’t need to tell him anything, he followed my cue and took a seat opposite to me. We didn’t speak for awhile. I could hear his heavy breathing coming in and out of him like it was painful for him to continue breathing. I understood. 

“You’re Daniel Crezar? Right?” He looked more nervous than before and rambled apologies profusely along with the ‘deal’ he offered. I let him finish and get it all out of his system before I spoke again. “I stole gas from you didn’t I?” He stood still for a moment, like he didn’t know what to do or say to make him get out of this alive. Eyes still wide and crazed, he nodded slightly. I smiled, it would’ve been a humorous situation under any other circumstances, maybe he’d laugh with me too if neither of us had to do what we did. “It will go to good use.” I couldn’t offer him any comfort and I continued before he could speak, “Daniel Crezar, you have my word that your wife and children will be safe.” He didn’t get a chance to question, to reply, to finish the breath stuck in his lungs. The gun I picked up, hidden away under the table shot him in his fat stomach. He hunched over lifeless, while I sat there finishing his last breath for him. 

Walking back wasn’t easy as I was expecting. I wasn’t going to waste gas on the short way, so I hiked back. The gear was heavy as shit, and I had a graze wound being held together by a piece of ripped shirt. Fuck. Then like a white knight all prideful and proud, I saw the tall building. I climbed up the ladder with one hand, slowly, but surely, I made it to the top. The view was still hypnotizing and my mind hushed for a fleeting second. The whispers never used inside voices for long though, and the moment came to a nauseating end. 

I stitched myself up, and lay my head against the old mattress Inka gave to me. Inka, the terribly sweet old man who ran the building(which I found out was a hideout for drug and money laundering posed as a grocery store) I slept utop and called home. He was kind and achingly so. Made my teeth hurt and heart tug. Most people are already beat down and tired to fight back, Inka is one of them. The Underground is unforgiving. It’s cold. You can’t find comfort here, no matter how much money, bodies, food, or buildings you burn, it is never warm. The soul within me still burnt bright, like a hot iron rod, one I wish would cease and let me succumb to the cold like the rest of them. 

From the time I woke up to the trip, to the market was short and uneventful. Inka lets me use the shower, no hot water, but I’m not complaining. I washed away the blood, the sweat, the memories of that day down the drain. The only permanent reminder I had stayed with me on the freshly stitched patch of skin and the tanginess of guilt on my heart. Out of body, out of mind. I pushed it all deep down. How far? I don’t know. 

The market was fairly active, people squished by me with their heads down, they all looked the same no matter what. Like mindless rats, following the smell of cheese the scientist put at the end of the maze. I stopped and grabbed four apples, two bananas, some bread, and a pint of water. I paid with the little money I had saved, I wanted this to be done right. I may be a killer and a thief but I will do this promise right. My moral compass is way off I’m sure. I found the house fairly quickly, I remembered what street it was on. Daniel Crezar’s wife, Anna Crezar thirty-one, and his two children, Luis Crezar, seven and Daniel Jr. Crezar, eight. I ran into Anna at the market one day, no, I found her. 

My intentions were impure and frowned upon, hand almost in her bag, when she looked to me and smiled unknowingly but kindly. A real smile. The guilt was unimaginable and I struck up a conversation with her to try and cover my almost crime. She told me of her children, she was proud, Luis could whistle and Daniel Jr. knew how to spell “Hypochondriac”. I told her the truth, about my mother, Harry and Wendy. She hugged me and kissed my head before she left the market that day. Easing my guilt using her, shameful really. It’s not my proudest moment, nor was the moment I killed her husband and father of her children, the moral compass has to be hanging on by a bolt and screw by now. I followed her to make sure she got home safe that night. I soon found out her husband, and the story leads to this. 

I left the bag of goods outside the door, knocking to ring in anyone home, and I left. I left like the unwelcome guest I was. I didn’t see who answered, if anyone did. I hope the food went somewhere good if not to them. 

I felt fire in my bones. I had to pass the abandoned pub, which now was not abandoned, lined with Military Police inside and out. Military scum. If you had come to me five years ago, and told me Military Police are so stupid you could kill someone in front of them and they still wouldn’t know who did it, I wouldn’t believe you. Blind trust in the government led me to believe they weren’t the enemy, nor were they daft. Things changed soon as I saw them for what they really are. Drunk, murdering, selfish, bastards.

I held my head down under the hood of my jacket and kept on my path, when a flash of white caught my attention. Not a flash, a glimmer, a white shirt. A clean, stainless, smoothed shirt hugged a tall blonde man's figure. He stood much taller than the others, taller than what I could remember Harry standing at. I was too noticeable and too suspicious to be standing out in the open, gawking at this new man, so I hid fast behind a large trash can, adjacent to the pub. 

He looked government from the clothes, but his face, his eyes, belonged to a soldier. His hair, neatly combed into a shiny swoop and his bushy eyebrows gave me the impression he was someone who took great care in their appearance. Must be high up military then. Maybe a Captain? Wonder, this man brought wonder. Wonder of why they would send him, specifically, down here to check out murders, in the Underground. Since when did they start caring about who dies down here? Wonder of who he was. It was a refreshing thing, something I could find myself chasing for the rest of my life like a high. 

I didn’t stay much longer, if he really was important, so be it. If he’s anything like the MP’s that work down here, I know I’m safe. A part of me hopes he isn’t, I want to keep wondering like this. I slid down a dark path and a couple more following that until I reached the white and red   
building. The library. Comfort nor warmth was found in these walls either, but you could read about it. You could imagine it here. It gave a new idea of the sad, cold, hole of a city we live in. It wasn’t inhabited, only sometimes you would get people sleeping for a night or two. Not many returned, most on the run I suppose. I’ve read every book in the small building, twice, almost thrice, but my visits here have been spread out the last couple of months. “Tsk tsk tsk.. What shall I indulge in today?” I let my guard down and mind dream of where I would most like to be. Bright and airy, it hit me. A Study In Scarlet. Detective Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson, seems fitting. 

I scourged the bookshelves for the reddish brown casing I knew so well, when I heard it. Creaking and shuffling. I wasn’t alone. I unclasped the blade I hid strapped on my wrist, and aimed at my target. It was him, Wonder. His head slightly tilted as he dodged my attack, his eyes ungiving and his lips tight in perk. He looked serious and I knew it would be no good to run, at least not now. He moved his head back to standing straight, his shoulders like a perch. “Is this the library?” His voice rumbling but commanding. Definitely military with a voice like that. 

We looked at each other for a minute. His eyes piercingly intimidating sapphire blue, his face invasive to any emotion. “Was.” My voice gave no rumble to feel, no intimidation to press, instead it was bland, but unwavering. My eyes flickered to my blade that stuck out strongly in the old wooden walls. He moved toward me but his movements felt motivated. He wanted something. I instantly held my guard up again, which he sensed. So definitely not MP, MP’s don’t have enough brain matter to pick up non-verbal cues. He held his hands up, like a white flag in battle, and smiled. Ah. So he thinks I’m an idiot. 

His voice started again with a rumble, I didn’t stay to listen, I threw down the book shelf and bolted out the front door. I sprinted, and in this moment, I felt like the prey. Like a deer being stalked by a hunter, just to be gutted and hung on his wall. A lot of people wanted to do that to me. For all I knew, he was the same. It wasn’t long before I heard my hunter chasing after me, along with the familiar zing catching up along with him. It wasn’t until I peaked back out of curiosity, that I saw a green hood, a green hood with the fucking Scouts sigil.


End file.
